


you better not (in a pear tree)

by glazedsun



Series: the pear tree [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Humor, M/M, POV Outsider, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-18 07:48:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21940705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glazedsun/pseuds/glazedsun
Summary: “I can’t believe you’re making them compete against each other,” Clint laughs from his perch on the kitchen counter, the perfect spot for his designated role as Official Noodle Tester. Well. Semi-Official.Well.Sneaker of Noodles When Phil Isn’t Looking.Phil closes the oven after putting the garlic bread in, swatting at Clint with the oven mitt. “Frankly, I’m surprised Barnes didn’t volunteer the second he found out it would be against Wilson. Those two seem to just look for any excuse to compete with each other.”or,Sam and Bucky are volunteered for the annual Holiday Bake-Off of the school they teach at, and the staff and students are determined this will be when they finally get together.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Phil Coulson, James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson
Series: the pear tree [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1665148
Comments: 25
Kudos: 111
Collections: MHEA Holiday Movie Challenge 2019, sambucky & spidey fics <3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to my holiday shenanigans! i'll be adding characters, tags, relationships, and, if necessary, changing the rating, as i go. i've got all kinds of random segments of this written, so as updates may be sporadic over the next week or two, but we'll get there in the end! i hope you enjoy! happy holidays!
> 
> if you want a suggestion of what to listen to while reading this, straight no chaser's entire discography would be the perfect place, holiday songs and otherwise. they're ridiculous, and this story will be as well (hopefully as much fun). the title (unless i can think of something better) is from their version of "12 days of Christmas"

“We’ve had this talk before, Michelle,” Phil sighs, rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

Michelle snorts, arms crossed over her chest in defiance.

“Look,” he says, trying not to sigh again. That bottle of Scotch he’d promised he wouldn’t open until the holidays was sounding more and more tempting with every passing moment. “While I don’t disagree with your point,” he fights the urge to roll his eyes at the triumphant _ha_! Michelle let out, “maybe use a little less fake blood next time?”

“History’s bloody and everyone should know the horrors colonialism caused.”

Yep. Phil’s going to text Clint immediately after this and make sure there’ll be a glass waiting for him. He glares over at Sam, who he can tell is trying not to snicker. “No more fake blood, Michelle, for the love of everything. I don’t care if you protest. Give speeches, make signs. That’s fine. Just… no more props. Is that too much to ask?”

He can see that Michelle wants to protest even this, but then her face brightens in a way that is utterly _terrifying_ and reminds him far too much of Melinda. “Can I do a feature on the announcements if I don’t use any props?”

He sighs again. “Take it up with Betty. Otherwise, have at it.”

“Nice.” She immediately pulls out her phone, presumably texting Betty, and stands up. “I can go, right?”

Now Sam is full on laughing, and Phil is going to throttle him. “Yes. Get out of here. Go deface a Confederate statue for all I care.” That was absolutely the wrong thing to say, because he can see the cogs turning in Michelle’s eyes. “ _Do your homework_.” She rolls her eyes and stalks out, giving Sam a little wave on the way out. When Sam goes to stand up to leave as well, Phil gives him a look that immediately has him sitting back down. “Don’t think you’re getting out of this that easily, either.”

“I didn’t do anything!” Sam protests, throwing his hands up in the air.

Phil gives him that same look, and Sam shuts up. Good to know he still has at least _some_ control in this god-forsaken place. “Don’t try and act like you don’t encourage her.”

“I’m just trying to teach the truth,” Sam shrugs.

“Teaching the truth and letting her demonstrate violence against Native Americans by using fake blood, _in the hallways_ , are two very different things.”

“To be fair,” Sam starts, and _oh here we go_ Phil thinks, “I never said anything about fake blood.”

Phil pinches at the bridge of his nose again. He’s going to have to make it a double. “You’re lucky that I support the idea, even if I don’t support the method. Don’t let it happen like that again.”

“I can’t control her in the hallways.”

“You’re a teacher, Wilson. It’s literally your job to have control over the students of this school.”

Sam gives him a look of utter disbelief. “You try having control over Michelle Jones.”

“What do you think I’ve been doing for three years?” Phil groans. “She likes you. Mentor her. Harness her powers for good. Rein in the chaos. Use all those counseling tricks you have up your sleeve.”

“That’s not how-“ Sam starts, but Phil continues speaking.

“And don’t think a lecture is all you’re getting. Congratulations, Sam Wilson, you’ve just won yourself a spot in the annual Christmas Cookie Bake-Off.”

To Phil’s surprise, Sam doesn’t protest at all. Instead, he looks fiercely competitive. “Nobody has a chance against Momma Wilson’s recipes.”

Phil groans, shooing Sam out of his office. He folds his arms onto his desk, resting his forehead on his arms and letting out an even longer groan. He looks up when Daisy, his secretary, peeks her head in and laughs at him. “That went well, I see.” He makes a face at her, then buries it in his arms again. “Clint’s here to pick you up.”

Phil perks up at that. “Thank fuck. Tell him I’ll be right out.”

Daisy nods. “I’ll let him know that you are pouting and need a minute.”

“Do _not_ tell him that!”

“Too late,” Clint says gleefully, suddenly appearing next to Daisy.

Yeah, it’s going to need to be a triple.

-

Two days later, Phil finds himself sitting across from Bucky Barnes and Peter Parker. Peter, to his credit, does look sufficiently shameful, though Phil’s pretty sure the shame is more from being caught than anything. Bucky, on the other hand, is barely concealing a smirk.

“This is the _fourth time_ , Parker,” Phil sighs, rubbing at the base of his neck.

“There was a puppy,” Peter says weakly in his defense.

Phil wishes, not for the first time, that he thought to keep scotch in his desk. “You left the field trip… because you saw a puppy.”

“A _floofy_ puppy,” Peter says, as if that would give his argument any merit. (Okay, normally he’d have a point there. But Lucky had eaten Phil’s breakfast that morning, so dogs weren’t exactly high on his good list right now.)

Phil sighs again, looking over to Bucky. “Judging by the smirk on your face, I’m going to guess you knew about this.” Bucky shrugs. Phil’s questioning every choice he’s ever made. What was it about this school that had him dealing with the absolute weirdest stuff? Why couldn’t it ever just be a simple fist fight and suspensions handed out? No. Instead it’s… fake blood and puppies. And that’s just this week. “Detention for three weeks, Parker. It happens again, you won’t be allowed to go on field trips any more. I’ve been generous with you up until now.”

“Yes, sir!” Peter says, jumping up and giving him a little salute before scampering off.

“Why did you let him wander off?” Phil asks Bucky, who was not only chaperoning the trip, but knew Peter’s tendency to just disappear on school trips.

Bucky shrugged. “He’s sneaky.”

Phil groans. “You’re on Cookie Bake-Off duty now.”

Phil tries not to smirk when Bucky pales. “Isn’t-“

“Sam Wilson the other competitor. That’s correct, Barnes. Now get out of my face.” Once Bucky is gone, muttering under his breath about punk ass bitches, hysterical laughter bubbles out of Phil’s mouth.

What even is his life?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just to clarify, i'm using comics clint, not mcu clint

“I can’t believe you’re making them compete against each other,” Clint laughs from his perch on the kitchen counter, the perfect spot for his designated role as Official Noodle Tester. Well. Semi-Official. _Well_. Sneaker of Noodles When Phil Isn’t Looking.

Phil closes the oven after putting the garlic bread in, swatting at Clint with the oven mitt. “Frankly, I’m surprised Barnes didn’t volunteer the second he found out it would be against Wilson. Those two seem to just _look_ for any excuse to compete with each other.”

Clint nods solemnly, then tilts his head at the mix of amused bewilderment on his boyfriend’s face. “Do you not know their history?”

Phil frowns, this time smacking Clint’s hand away from the noodles with the wooden spoon. He ignores the _oooh daddy,_ much to Clint’s disappointment. “They have a history?”

“What kind of super spy are you?” Clint sighs, disappointed.

“The kind who is a high school principal, not a super spy?”

“No fun,” Clint sighs again, a little pout on his face.

“Maybe in another universe, babe. Now. Sam and Bucky. Their history.”

Clint nods. He can totally do story time. “So, okay. Do you at least know they went to school together forever?”

At that, Phil nods. “I did hire them.”

“Right, duh. So from what Steve has told me, Bucky and Sam both tried out for the same role in the Christmas pageant at the elementary school. Of course, now it’s the Winter Concert, which is cool because we’ve got a lot more diverse students now, so it’s only right everyone gets-“

“Clint. Focus,” Phil scolds him, distracting him by offering him a noodle from the pot.

Clint takes it happily, ignoring Phil’s protests that it’s hot and popping it right into his mouth. Okay, ouch. “Right. So they wanted the same role. I don’t remember what it was, but it was some big, starring role where they’d get a monologue and everything. Noodles need another minute, by the way. They both did well in the auditions, I guess, and started talking smack over it. They kept going until everyone was sick of it, and when it started to verge on getting physical, the teachers decided neither of them would get the role. Instead of learning from it, they’ve just… resented each other since. And constantly try to one-up the other.”

Phil shakes his head, and Clint can’t help but laugh at the look on his boyfriend’s face. “That explains _so much_ ,” Phil sighs, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. It looks all crinkled as he seems to be thinking back on every interaction he’s ever had with the two of them, and Clint also can’t help but lean in to press a kiss there.

“We’ve also got bets,” Clint says cheerfully.

“Bets?” Phil asks, raising his eyebrow. Clint knows the man enough to see the absolute curiosity beneath the disappointed dad look that he’s giving Clint.

“It’s only a matter of time before they finally get their act together and _get_ together,” Clint says, a huge, mischievous look on his face.

“Of course,” Phil groans, shaking his head and bending down to check on the bread. When he pops back up, though, he’s fighting to keep the smirk off of his face. “Is it too late to get in on this now that they’re competing against each other?”

“Why, Principal Coulson!” Clint gasps, hand over his heart and acting scandalized. Phil laughs, rolling his eyes and shoving a wooden spoon in Clint’s face, offering a noodle. “Well for that, yes. I might know a guy that can get you in on the pool. Noodle’s perfect.”

“Perfect,” Phil says, and Clint can’t help but laugh when he recognizes the smirk hiding underneath his Serious Face. Clint jumps down from the counter to go feed Lucky, to keep him preoccupied.

In theory. It never really works, but the effort is always there, no matter what Phil tries to say.

* * *

Steve’s minding his own business, setting up supplies for the projects he has planned for the day, when the principal of the school strolls in, carrying two coffees with him. He raises an eyebrow, taking the offered coffee. “Can I help you, sir?”

“Actually, you can,” Phil says, leaning against Steve’s desk and taking a sip of his coffee. He’s got his serious face on, which is a little alarming. Steve likes Phil, but the man can be seriously intimidating. Steve just nods, taking a sip of his own coffee, waiting for Phil to continue. “I hear you are in control of a certain pool?”

“A… pool?” Steve asks, feigning ignorance, not sure where this was going.

“A pool involving our two favorite novice bakers.”

Steve quirks his head, trying not to start laughing. “And what about it?”

“How does one get in on this?” Phil asks, trying to look serious but clearly on the verge of laughing just as much as Steve is.

Steve holds up his coffee. “This is a good start. Stakes are high, you sure you’re up for it? How’d you find out about it, by the way?”

“Clint clued me in on it, told me a certain art teacher has been trying to get his best friends together for years,” Steve snorts out a laugh at that, then schools his face back into something a little more serious. “You name it, I’m in on it.”

Steve glances up at the clock, then turns back to Clint, satisfied they won’t be interrupted by students right away. It’s bad enough some of them are way too invested in Sam and Buck’s relationship; they don’t need to know that the teachers have their own bets going on. “Twenty bucks to get in, you pick when they’ll finally get together. Closest to when it happens wins. If the winner guesses how they get together, too, then the rest of us pool together to buy them a bottle of booze or dinner.”

Phil nods, considering. Steve smiles watching him. It’s that same serious look on his face he’s seen a million times before, though usually it’s in faculty meetings. “How many people are we talking?” Steve walks around to his desk, opening one of the drawers and pulling out a folder. He flips through various pages of notes of class planning until he finds what he’s looking for: the meticulous list. He shows it to Phil, who lets out a low whistle. “That’s at least half of the faculty and staff. How the hell have those two not caught on to this?”

“They’re a bit, well. Oblivious.”

“Idiots,” Phil nods solemnly, making Steve laugh.

“You hired them, Sir.”

“And I don’t regret it one bit. Put me down for the day of the Bake-Off. Nothing like a bit of healthy competition turned to angry sex leading to realizing feelings.”

“Sounds like you’ve got some experience there,” Steve says as he writes, only to immediately regret the comment when he sees the smug look on Phil’s face. Oh God, the fact that he’s friends with Clint makes knowing this information _so much worse_. He could have done without thinking about Phil and Clint this morning.

“Don’t forget about the faculty meeting next week,” he winks at Steve as the students start to file in. Steve rolls his eyes, trying not to smirk when he salutes Phil before the man walks away. At least in this instance, faculty meeting meant dinner at the FitzSimmons house and planning for the Bake-Off and other assorted holiday festivities they had planned.

Maybe getting the two of them together would be the next project. The two science teachers were literally so inseparable faculty and students called them by one name, yet they continued to dance around their feelings for each other.

It seems to be a common thing around these parts.


	3. Chapter 3

Michelle’s buzzing waiting for the announcements to start. She’s got a whole speech prepared, and she’s pretty sure that Principal Coulson had no idea what he was getting into when he allowed her to ask Betty to do this. Honestly, she’s expecting to at least get detention for the speech, if not worse.

But he told her that she could do it. And she had no fake blood, or any props at all for that matter. So, if anything, the speech was Coulson and Wilson’s faults.

“Ready?” Betty asks, and Michelle nods. Betty gives the usual daily announcements, in that usual ridiculous way, then introduces MJ.

“This week, when you’re eating your turkey and watching football, remember to be thankful,” Michelle starts. “Thankful for the fact that while folks came over here and decided they deserved the land, screw the people who were already there. Sure, we’re taught as kids that Thanksgiving is all about the two groups sharing, but guess what, that’s just what they want us to believe to promote their agenda.” She notices the kid behind the camera making gestures trying to cut her off, but Michelle glares at him. “Do not cut me off, I have permission from Principal Coulson to do this.” She can practically hear the groan from Coulson, and feels a sense of triumph. “Really, what the Pilgrims did was just the start of genocide. They killed the Native Americans, took their children, forced them off their land. So, enjoy your family time and stuff, but don’t forget the ‘reason for the season’. Thanks,” she salutes the camera, walking out of the room, ignoring her fellow students behind her, nearly all of whom have their jaws on the ground.

She walks through the hallways to her first period class, raising an eyebrow when she sees Principal Coulson step out from his office. “Really, Michelle?”

Michelle shrugs. “He was gonna cut me off.”

Principal Coulson sighs, shaking his head. He pauses, like he’s struggling on whether he should actually say what’s on his mind. Finally, it looks like he gives in. “Thanks,” he says, not really saying anything further, but MJ can read his face enough to know what he’s implying. Thanks for saying what I’m not sure I’m allowed to yet, perhaps. “And, uh,” he coughs, putting his serious face back on. “Thanks for not bringing the blood back.”

“Anytime,” Michelle grins at her before walking to her classroom, where she’s greeted by a high five from Mr. Wilson.

* * *

“How did you two meet, anyway?” One of the newest faculty members asks as they’re wrapping up dinner the Saturday after Thanksgiving, what Phil is officially referring to as a faculty meeting, but Jemma knows is just an excuse for everyone to get together and maybe get some work done. There’s Faculty Meetings, which are by the books, and then there’s faculty meetings, which… well, are a far more casual affair.

“He just showed up in a dumpster near my house one day,” Phil shrugs, completely deadpan. There’s mixed looks around the room. Those that have known Phil or Clint the longest have amused looks on their faces, while the rest of the group looks perplexed.

“It was fate,” Clint shrugs as well, a big grin on his face. Jemma rolls her eyes, walking away from the conversation to go check on the brownies in the oven. The two of them tell the same story every time someone asks, and always get the same blank, disbelieving stares in return.

Hell, Jemma’s known the two of them for years. Phil _recruited_ her and Leo. She knows a lot of things about him, but even she isn’t entirely sure how much of the dumpster story is true.

And then she hears Clint from the other room. “Aw, wine, _no_.” She can hear the pout on Clint’s face, and heaves a deep sigh before grabbing paper towels.

Honestly, she wouldn’t be surprised if the dumpster story is true. She plasters a smile back on her face, walking over to wear Clint was looking forlornly at the spilled wine. Thankfully, he’d at least managed to just knock the glass over on the table, so the spill was relatively contained. She shoves the paper towels at him.

“So how glad are you I bought those fancy plastic wine glasses?” Leo whispered in her ear, startling a laugh out of her.

She turns around and shakes her head in amusement. “We’ve all spent too much time together that you anticipated this.”

“No such thing!” Steve argues.

“Oh, no,” Sam says, and it says a lot that she recognizes the look on his face. It’s his ‘I’m pretending to be annoyed, but I’m incredibly amused’ face. It’s a face that she sees on Phil a lot, too. “There is absolutely such a thing as spending too much time with you people. No one asked if I wanted to learn all your weird little quirks.”

“No one’s telling you to stay,” Bucky points out, because of course he does. It’s impossible for the two of them to be in the same room without bickering.

Just then, the oven timer dings. Oh, thank _gods._ “Brownies are done!” She jumps up, going back into the kitchen. There’s a chorus of cheers at that, and she can’t help but roll her eyes and laugh. These are the same adults who are in charge of guiding the lives of hundreds of teenagers each year.

Who in their right mind ever let this happen?

(Superintendent Nick Fury, that’s who.)

After the brownies are cooled down enough and handed around, everyone sits down to actually plan for the Holiday Fest. Though Jemma hasn’t worked for the school for long, it still feels like the festival grows bigger and bigger each year, and from what she’s heard, this year will definitely be the biggest yet.

By the time Jemma herself sits down to join everyone (after handing out notepads for notes and new fancy pens for everyone to keep), the same yearly argument is already starting up.

“This year is the year we’ll be serving mulled wine, right?”

“This is a _school event_ ,” Phil sighs, that long-suffering sigh that they’ve all become familiar with.

“You don’t even work at the school, Clint. What the hell is he doing here?” Sam asks, directing the second question to Phil.

If possible, Phil’s sigh is even more suffering than the last. Completely dead-pan, he replies, “He wouldn’t get out of the car.”

Everyone has varied success in hiding back their laughter at that, especially when Clint just shrugs, giving a shit-eating grin. Daisy, who deals with Phil and Clint the most out of all of them, breaks down into laughter first, setting everyone else off.

Phil rolls his eyes at both Clint and the group, but then smiles slow. “I do have an announcement. I wanted to tell you guys first before we make it public to the kids on Monday. It finally happened this year. Tony Stark has agreed to judge the Bake-Off.”

A cacophony of noise follows this announcement, with everyone either talking over each other or making various noises of surprise.

Tony Stark was a legend in this town. The Stark family were pillars in the town before the car accident that took the lives of Maria and Howard. Howard was a shrewd businessman, owning what felt like nearly half of the town. Everyone thought that Tony, a child prodigy in his own right, would follow in his father’s footsteps. Instead, Tony focuses his energy on two projects: giving back to the town that embraced him after the loss of his parents, and what started out as a small bakery.

The bakery has grown exponentially since Tony took it over; what started as a little storefront with its signature red and gold décor has grown into an international company. Tony himself has become something of a celebrity chef, with best-selling cookbooks and guest appearances on various baking shows. All of this kept him busy, and his visits to his home town were very sporadic.

It’s unprecedented, really, that Tony would be there for the holidays, let alone be willing to participate in their Festival. He donates every year, both money and baked goods for them to sell, but has never actually stopped by.

When the chatter calms down, Jemma tentatively raises her hand.

“Really, Jem?” Leo whispers to her; she elbows him.

“Do you have a question or a suggestion?” Phil asks, raising an eyebrow.

“A suggestion,” Jemma says. “If we’ve got a celebrity chef judge, then I think we should go all out for this competition.” Bucky and Sam glance at each other, only to quickly turn away. Ridiculous. Everyone else gives her a curious look. “We’re already referring to it as the Bake-Off… why not go _full_ Bake-Off?”

She gets a few confused looks in response, but a few of the faculty members catch on and their eyes widen. “That’s genius,” Clint says (despite not being one of said faculty members). “All three rounds? In a tent?”

“Of course in a tent,” Jemma smirks, laughing when Sam groans. This just serves to further confuse those who did not get the reference, so Jemma settles down to quickly explain the premise of _The Great British Bake-Off_ , and they begin to work through the logistics of what Jemma is pretty sure might be her best idea yet. Forget all the research she’s done for her various PhD’s; bringing the Bake-Off to the Festival is the clear winner.

* * *

“Did you hear the news?!” Kamala asks the Monday after their break, a big grin on her face as she sits down at the table for lunch. She hopes that everyone is as excited as she is. This is seriously the best news that Kamala has gotten in ages; of course, part of that could be the way her morning had started. She’d overslept (again), which meant she didn’t have time to stop for a snack on the way in to school. She’d also managed to forget half of the notes she needed at home, too.

But this news? It made her day.

“Which news?” Peter asks, tearing into his sandwich with a voracity that impressed Kamala.

MJ scrutinizes Kamala’s expression, reading the look on the girl’s face to try and figure out what she was talking about. “With how excited she is, I’m going to guess it’s something to do with Barnes and Wilson.”

Kamala just shrugs, still grinning. It’s hard, sometimes, to tell how much Michelle is truly judging her and how much is a sort of silent amusement and appreciation. Kamala’s gotten used to it. 

“It should be weird that you pretty much write fanfiction about our teachers, but like. If anyone needs to get together, it’s those two,” Shuri says as she takes a seat with their group. Like MJ, it was a bit difficult to tell if Shuri was judging her or not, but quite frankly, Kamala didn’t care since no one seemed to really make fun of her for it in their group. “But aren’t they both in the dumb teacher bake off?”

“Yep!” Kamala grins. “It’s going to be _so good_. They’re making a whole big thing out of it, too. The competition is going to be epic.”

“I heard that Tony Stark is going to be judging it,” Peter says, his voice full of awe.

“Oh my god, _the_ Tony Stark?” MJ drawls, rolling her eyes at him.

Peter pouts at her and throws a part of the crust of his sandwich at her. “Tony Stark is the best, okay.”

“Yeah, yeah, you idolize him, I’m surprised you don’t have a shrine built to him, et cetera,” MJ snorts. “Have you even ever made anything from all those cookbooks you own? You’ve never brought us anything.”

“He’s probably made everything in there several times,” Miles pipes up. “So either they didn’t turn out and he was too embarrassed to bring them, or he didn’t want to share.”

“May brings them to the hospital with her and sneaks them to the patients who can eat them,” Peter mumbles. He’s adorable, Kamala decides for the fifteenth time in two weeks. Not in the _wow I want to date him_ kind of way, just _I want to keep him in my pocket and protect him_ kind of way.

“You know,” Harley says as he, too, joins them. “I heard they’re looking for a student judge, too. You should enter, Parker.”

“Me?” Peter squeaks.

“Yes, you. You know shit about baking and make baked good sacrifices on your Tony Stark shrine, you’d be the perfect student judge,” Harley says, stealing an apple from Peter’s plate and biting into it.

“You definitely should do it!” Kamala encourages. “Plus then you’d get to see Wilson and Barnes interact.”

“Well you’re right, now I have to,” Peter deadpans, but the glint of humor on his face shows he’s just messing with her, but not making fun. It’s that little shit side of him coming through. He continues to protest, but the more that everyone encourages him, the closer he is to cracking.

It’ll be good for him if he does do it, Kamala thinks. He’s had a rough go of it lately, and what better Hanukkah present for him than hanging out with his idol?


	4. Chapter 4

Once the plans are sorted, the actual set up itself is actually not that bad. The team is a well-oiled machine, Phil thinks, pleased. The park in the center of the town is in the process of being transformed from a jumble of playground equipment and open fields for soccer and baseball to a classic German Christmas market. The booths have been built, ready and waiting for the individual vendors to set up. Beyond the paths of booths- double the number of people registered this year, and Phil can’t help but think that the news of the Bake-Off has a lot to do with that- are two white tents, one large and one smaller. He’d left Jemma and Clint, the resident _Great British Bake-Off_ experts, in charge of the set up.

He had, of course, been hesitant about leaving Clint partially in charge of anything, because he knows his boyfriend all too well. He trusts Jemma to handle Clint, though, and has already warned her from letting him turn the whole tent purple.

Phil wanders over to where a crew of both his staff and volunteers from the town are in the beginning stages of decorating the area. Not surprisingly, it’s all a bit of chaos. Peter and Harley are shoving at each other, arguing over some technical thing that Phil doesn’t bother trying to work out. They’re equal parts laughing and glaring at each other, so he’s not that concerned. Sam, who is in charge of the group, clearly feels the same, because he’s ignoring the two of them to help Luke untangle a string of lights.

“Sweet Christmas, who put these away last year?” Luke groans in frustration, looking about ten seconds from just throwing the lights away.

“Probably you,” Sam teases, earning himself a glare from Luke.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if it was Danny,” Phil says, making Luke groan even louder.

“You’re probably right,” he says, then begins to mutter to himself, something about trust fund babies and not being able to do anything right. Luckily, the muttering turns into a triumphant sound when they manage to get the worst of the knots sorted out.

“Great job, guys,” Phil says, patting them both on the shoulder. “Anything I can help with?”

Sam glances around the group, and his eyes settle on Bucky, who has joined Harley and Peter. Phil follows his gaze, smirking to himself. Could they be any more obvious? “Go control Barnes. They look like they’re going to cause trouble, and I need Barnes to be setting up the big stuff instead.” He motions to some of the larger light features.

“Sure you don’t want to go tell him yourself?” Luke asks, shooting Sam a look. It takes everything in Phil not to laugh.

“Not particularly, no, I’m a bit busy,” Sam retorts, glaring at Luke.

“I mean, I think I can handle this from here,” Luke continues, as if Sam hadn’t even spoken. “Especially with Coulson here. In fact, you know, I was wondering what other ways I can contribute, so we’ve got stuff to talk about. So go be the leader you are and delegate.”

Sam’s eyes shoot daggers at Luke, but he does reluctantly stand up, storming off to go reign in Bucky and the teens.

Phil and Luke both wait to make sure Sam’s attention is no longer on them, then burst out into quiet laughter.

“I swear, every time he comes into the bar, it’s another story about how much he hates Buck. They’re too much,” Luke shakes his head.

“They really are,” Phil agrees, raising an eyebrow at the conspiratorial grin that Peter and Harley are sharing before slowly backing away to do what they were actually supposed to. “Looks like they planned this too,” Phil says, nodding to the teens, who were whispering and laughing as they began to hang ornaments on the large tree in the center of the market.

Luke snorts. “Wish I could be surprised, but I’m not.” They watch for a few more moments, then turn back to the strings of light at hand when Sam and Bucky start reluctantly working together on moving one of the especially large light features.

It’s just a matter of time for them to get together, Phil thinks, before launching into a discussion on how Luke can contribute since the fair won’t be selling alcohol.

* * *

“So what kind of cookies are you planning on making?” Natasha asks Bucky a few days before the big competition. If he was going to drag her out shopping, it was only fair she check in on his progress. She glances around, torn between feeling smothered by the sheer amount of _Christmas_ that threw up in Hallmark, and feeling some weird desire to curl up with spiced wine in front of a fireplace. She pokes at one of the ornaments on display, blinking when it began to sing to her.

“Wouldn’t have pegged you for a _Cinderella_ kind of girl,” Bucky teases, laughing when Natasha rolls her eyes at him.

“Don’t change the subject,” she scolds, looking over at the ornaments of nostalgic toys instead.

Bucky shrugs, picking up a Snoopy ornament and putting it in his basket. “I figured I’d wing it. How hard can it be to make some chocolate chip cookies?”

Natasha turns around, staring at him, unblinking, shocked. “You can’t just… wing the Bake-Off, are you _insane_?”

“It’s a silly competition,” Bucky shrugs again.

“Against your _sworn enemy_ ,” Natasha shakes her head, grabbing an Eeyore ornament that reminded her of Bruce and throwing it into Bucky’s basket. It was nice, Eeyore was actually smiling because Piglet was hugging him. “Since when do you not take an opportunity to take down Sam Wilson seriously?”

“It’s cookies. I like to bake. I’ve got this in the bag.”

Natasha rolls her eyes again, ready to wipe the smug smile right off Bucky’s face. “Are you kidding? Have you ever tasted Sam Wilson’s cookies?”

Bucky hesitates, looking over at Natasha as they wander away from the ornaments over to other gift items. “Why would I ever taste anything that man has made?”

“Oh my God, I hate you two so much,” Natasha groans. She tosses a huge box of specialty chocolates into the basket, a gift to herself for having to deal with this. “He’s so ready to kick your ass, Barnes. He’s pulling out his Momma’s recipes and everything.”

Bucky stops in his tracks, forcing Natasha to dodge to the side in order to avoid running into him. He turns slowly to face her, frowning. “He’s pulling out the family recipes?”

Natasha nods solemnly. “Of course he is. He’s competing against you, in front of _Tony Stark_. You really expected _Sam Wilson,_ of all people, to just throw some chocolate chips in a bowl and call it a day? Oh, no. You do not know Sam at all.” She can’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction at the sudden panic on Bucky’s face. “So, what’s the plan, then?”

A smile came over Bucky’s face, slowly; it was almost creepy, in a fascinating way. He was absolutely plotting something. “If he’s going traditional and for the sentimental value, I’m going big. Come on,” he immediately headed off to the register, emptying his basket onto the counter and flashing a charming smile at the harried young woman working. “We are going to the store after this and you are going to help me buy fancy ingredients that will impress someone like Stark.”

“Sounds good,” Natasha agrees easily, staying silent when Bucky doesn’t look down at the items to realize he’s just bought like, five things for her. He deserves it if he’s shifting into some weird pretentious hipster mode.

She couldn’t wait to win the bet.

* * *

The days before the first night of the festival have everyone running around in a panic. While all the big stuff is done, fear of forgetting something little has everyone worried.

The festival itself always runs for three weeks: the first two weeks are weekends only, while everyone is still in school. The week before Christmas, they’ll be open every day. This year, the last day falls on a Sunday, when the festival will culminate with the Bake-Off.

It’s a lot of work, and a big commitment from faculty, staff, and all the vendors from the community as well, but it’s become a beloved tradition for many, many years. Maybe it’s because of just how ingrained this tradition is in the town that has the normally (at least on the surface) even-keeled Melinda May stressing out.

Phil’s the front man of the whole project, both because he’s the principal and because he’s the most calming presence of the administrative staff. Because of this, he’s running around like crazy, working through any last minute kinks, while Melinda is in charge of getting everything prepared for Tony Stark.

She doesn’t know much about the man, or care much one way or the other, but he does make a mean Black Forest gateau. In her books, that makes him at least alright, pushing towards decent. She and Jemma are standing in what will become the judges’ tent, going over some of the final touches to make sure he’ll be comfortable.

“May?”

Melinda turns around when she hears her name, and sighs deeply when she sees Bucky Barnes peering through the opening in the tent. “Aren’t you supposed to be doing something?”

Bucky nods. “Yes. I’m supposed to be able to be doing a run through of my first round cookies, to get a feel for the kitchens and to help you guys make sure everything works,” he recites, almost word for word the instructions that she had given him and Sam the day before.

“And why aren’t you doing that?”

“Well, it’s just- Sam won’t leave?”

Melinda groans while Jemma rolls her eyes. “And the problem is?”

“I don’t want him to see what I’m making!”

Jemma barely contains her laughter. Melinda, on the other hand, sinks down into the nearest chair and rests her head on the table over her crossed arms. She motions for Jemma to respond, because she has officially hit her wit’s end when it comes to the two of them.

“You’re making cookies, Bucky. Just like he is. Signature recipe, not a secret. We just need you to test the equipment for us,” Jemma says. Her voice is impossibly patient, probably a result of constantly dealing with him in her role as the head of the science department.

“But he-"

Jemma smoothly cuts him off. Impressive. “Nope, no. Go bake, Bucky. Unless he starts throwing cutlery at you or the equipment doesn’t work, I don’t want to see you until you’re done.”

Bucky frowns. “If he starts throwing cutlery, I’m throwing my stand mixer at him.”

“Don’t you dare!” Jemma yells after him. She sits down next to Melinda, sighing deeply.

In unison, they both murmur, “men”, before bursting out into laughter.

* * *

The teenagers are all sprawled in piles in Shuri’s basement. It’s a huge room, but still cozy. There’s a fire going to combat the snowy weather outside, and a Christmas movie on the large TV.

“Who the hell decided we needed to watch the Muppets?” Michelle gripes from her position on the floor, her head in Shuri’s lap, the book she’d been reading laying forgotten in her lap.

“First of all, because _Muppet Christmas Carol_ is the best Christmas movie ever,” Peter says, glaring at MJ. “Second of all, if you’re making us watch _Die Hard_ as a part of a holiday movie marathon, then I better get Rizzo and Gonzo.”

“ _Die Hard_ is absolutely a Christmas movie,” MJ rolls her eyes, glaring right back at Peter. “In fact, I think it is the ultimate Christmas movie.”

“How?!” Peter asks, throwing a piece of popcorn at MJ.

“Well-“ MJ starts.

Ned shushes them both immediately, knowing that this was a debate they’d been having for years now. Once they start, it never ends unless someone else steps in. He decides to stop it before it can even begin. He doesn’t really want to deal with it, and honestly, Peter’s right. _Muppet Christmas Carol_ really is the best Christmas movie. “This is my favorite song. Be quiet.”

It doesn’t take long before he and Peter start singing along to “Marley and Marley”, complete with sound effects. Miles joins in not long after, followed by Shuri, and even Kamala can’t help but sing along.

“You don’t even celebrate Christmas!” MJ stares at Kamala as she gets into the song.

When the song is over, Kamala shrugs, a grin on her face. “I mean, it’s not a Christmas song. It’s hard not to sing along to it with everyone. We’ve watched the movie three years in a row now, I’ve figured out the words. Besides, Peter only half-celebrates Christmas.”

“Oh, Peter doesn’t half-celebrate anything,” Ned laughs, dodging a pillow thrown at him. “Dude, you go all out for Christmas _and_ Hanukkah.”

“I like the holidays,” Peter shrugs, a little sheepish expression on his face.

“You’re disgustingly enthusiastic about everything,” MJ sighs, but the look on her face is fond all the same.

Miles perks up at that from where he’s hanging backwards over the couch. “Speaking of, how are you handling being days away from meeting _the_ Tony Stark?”

Peter groans, and Ned is torn between feeling bad that everyone is coming for his best friend and being just as amused as the rest of them. “You are all the worst. I am excited.”

“In other words, he’s shitting bricks,” MJ drones, letting out a barely audible yelp when there’s suddenly a whole torrent of popcorn flying at her face.

Shuri looks up at Peter, one eyebrow raised. “You’re picking that up, Parker.”

Peter has the decency to look shameful as he nods. “Of course. Sorry.”

“Don’t do it again,” she says, completely deadpan, except Ned recognizes that look. It’s the same one that she gets before she pranks her older brother. Shuri waits for Peter to turn back to the movie, then reaches over to shove popcorn down his shirt.

Even Ned can’t help but laugh at the yelp that Peter lets out.

In the end, even MJ sings along with “It Feels Like Christmas”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiya! anyone who'd been reading this before i posted tonight may have noticed i have decided on the number of chapters. we're almost there, folks! the next chapter will be the bake-off itself, followed by an epilogue. 
> 
> i've also done a crazy amount of world-building in my head regarding how various marvel characters fit in this universe, both those who have made appearances and those who have not. i would LOVE to chat about it, so feel free to message me on tumblr @glazed-sun and i can answer any questions about this 'verse and the people in it, except spoilers about the end of this fic (partially because i've only got about... 25% of the end actually written). and maybe, if i get the inspiration and people are interested enough, there may be more of the 'verse in the future.
> 
> lots of love!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the bake-off is finally here! i'm not really happy with this chapter but it needed to be done and over with. i hope you enjoy!

Peter takes a deep breath as he walks toward the back of the little market, trying to control his shaking hands.

“Nervous?” Aunt May asks him, and Peter looks up at her.

“Just cold,” he lies. Well, it’s not entirely a lie; he’s never been good in the cold. May levels a look at Peter that leaves him squirming. Right, she knows him too well. It’s a problem. “Okay, yes,” he groans. “It’s _Tony Stark_ , May. I’m spending hours in a tent with him. I’m _judging_ with him. Why did I agree to this? Oh god, what have I done?”

May shakes her head, laughing and squeezing the arm that’s hanging around his shoulder. “You’re going to be great. You know a lot about baking, don’t forget that. And I’ll be there with you, too, don’t forget.”

“I wonder if he’ll have anyone with him,” Peter says, then his eyes widen. “Oh man, what if _Ms. Potts_ is there?”

“Then I’ll have reason to be nervous,” May says. “Solidarity.” They high five, and make their way to the small tent that Jemma set up for the judges to hang out in while Sam and Bucky were baking. It’s nice, Peter decides as they duck in. There’s a heater in the corner, enough to keep the chill away. There’s a table in the middle for them to all sit at. Peter suspects that if anyone else were judging, they would have just dragged a picnic table in, but they’d gone all out for Mr. Stark. It was nicely decorated as well, and there was both a kettle and Keurig.

Peter and May had only been sitting down for a few minutes when they heard voices approach. Both of them jump up, looking at each other with wide eyes as Tony Stark himself walks into the tent. Following him are his husband, Colonel Rhodes, as well as their bodyguard, Happy Hogan, and Pepper Potts, CEO of the baking empire.

Peter squeezes May’s hand, _hard_ , in an effort to try and keep his eyes from bugging out of his head. He can’t believe this is actually happening.

“Hey kid,” Mr. Stark says, smiling warmly at Peter.

“Hi,” Peter says, turning bright red as his voice cracks. May squeezes his hand, and Peter takes a deep breath. “Mr. Stark, hi, I’m Peter Parker. I’ve been a fan of yours for years, I got into baking because of you.”

“Call me Tony,” Mr. Stark- _Tony_ \- corrects, making Peter blush a little more. “Good to meet you, Pete. May, nice to see you again.”

Peter’s head whips over to look at May, who has a surprised look on her face as well. “Tony, nice to see you again. I’m a bit stunned you remember me.”

“How could I not?” Tony laughs, but it’s not mean, and it relaxes both Peter and May some. He turns to Peter, explaining, “Whirlwind romance in high school. Lasted all of,” he turns to look at May for clarification, “three weeks?”

May laughs and nods, and Peter feels like his whole world has changed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

May shrugs, “It was three weeks, ages ago, I didn’t feel like you needed to know my dating history.”

The sound of a throat clearing comes from next to Tony, and everyone turns to look at Pepper, who has her eyebrow raised. “Right, right,” Tony says. “May, Peter, this is Rhodey, Happy, and Pepper. Guys, this is May Parker and her, son?”

“Nephew,” May corrects.

Tony nods, and there’s a chorus of hellos and hand shaking. They’ve got some time until they’re needed to get started on the competition, so they all settle down into chairs around the table to chat. Peter looks around the room with big eyes, staying silent as all the adults talk, a little overwhelmed at the situation he’s found himself in.

“Tell me about Barnes and Wilson,” Tony says after a lull in small talk, directing his attention to Peter.

“They need to get married,” is, _of course_ , the first thing that comes out of his mouth, which makes him turn a bright red as all the adults stare at him before bursting out into laughter. “I mean, um,” he stutters, shifting a little in his seat until May places a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Mr. Wilson teaches English, and Mr. Barnes teaches science. They’ve been rivals forever and ever, I don’t know why but I’m pretty sure the entire school is trying to get them together. I didn’t know they could bake, though.”

Tony nods slowly, a smirk coming over his face in a way that has Colonel Rhodes groaning immediately. “Tones, no,” he sighs.

“Tony, yes,” Tony argues, grinning big. “Let’s do this, kid.”

“Do what?” Peter asks, looking back and forth between Tony and Colonel Rhodes.

“Let’s get those two together,” he says, high fiving Peter while everyone else in the tent groans.

* * *

Tony looks around as he walks into the big tent, Peter at his side. He seems like a good kid, if a little overly enthusiastic; but then, could Tony really blame him?

They’ve done an incredibly impressive job with the resources they had. It’s not nearly as big or elaborate of a set up as the real tent in Berkshire (where Tony aspires to someday get to bake), but it’s got everything they need. There are two small stations set up, and they look like at one time they were probably displays from a furniture store. Each station has a fridge, oven, a decent amount of counter space, and a sink. There’s a row of cabinets in the back, decorated to the brim and, Tony guesses, where they are keeping the supplies for the technical round. In front of the stations is a table, and behind that, at the front of the tent, are decorations galore. Two large Christmas trees stand in each corner, fully decorated. Between them, a table full of decorations for every winter holiday, a large menorah and kinara standing out.

All in all, the set-up is impressive. They’ve gone above and beyond anything that he expected. It’s only fair that he donates more to the school as a ‘job well done’ and ‘I like your spirit’ kind of thing.

(And if he’s tempted to stipulate that it be used to encourage cooking and baking classes for the kids so they don’t go away to college and only live off ramen, well. He can’t help that.)

At the two stations stand two men that Tony assumes are the two competitors. He eyes them warily, trying to get a read on them. They do both look like they’ve got their game faces on, and that impresses Tony. This is, after all, just supposed to be a friendly competition. The only prize is bragging rights and a hastily decorated, but well meant, cake stand.

The two men shoot glares at each other when they think the other one isn’t looking, only to quickly look away if the other does happen to be looking.

It’s disgusting.

They have to get together.

Also, Tony’s decided that he’s upping the prize if their baking is any good, with how seriously they’re taking this. He’ll decide that after the signature bake.

Tony glances out of the corner of his eye at Peter while Clint and Jemma do their best attempts at “hosting” duties. Peter’s trying not to giggle, so Tony winks at him. The kid’s bright red by now, trying so hard not to laugh.

“And our judges,” Jemma is saying to the cameras that they have set up, donated by Tony, which will allow for them to record everything and live stream the judging. She elbows the two of them, sensing their distraction and giving them a knowing look. The way that she rolls her eyes makes Tony think they’re both wearing twin looks over being chastised. She continues on, introducing the two of them. Tony forces himself to pay attention as they go over the rules for the signature bake.

It’s simple, of course, compared to the guidelines of the real show: two dozen cookies, one drop batch and one bar batch, in an hour and a half.

“On your marks,” Clint starts, once they’ve finished explaining the rules.

“Get set,” Jemma continues.

“BAKE!” They yell together, and then burst out into laughter before letting Barnes and Wilson get started.

The four of them go back to the judges’ tent for the moment, giving the bakers a few moments to get started before going in to check on them. “So, Barnes and Wilson?” Tony asks when they all sit down.

“Barnes and Wilson,” Jemma sighs. She’s definitely dealt with them for far too long.

Clint, meanwhile, is snickering. “We’ve got a pool going on them.”

“Clint,” Jemma groans, and Tony wonders if he’s somehow even more of a pain for Jemma than the other two are. He looks like trouble. He’ll have to ask Phil about him later.

“What?!” Clint asks. “Tony Stark asked, so I answered.”

Jemma rolls her eyes and sighs again. She shares a look with May and Pepper that looks something like ‘what can we do?’, and Tony can immediately sense that these three working together could easily take over the world.

And, honestly, he’s fine with that. More than fine with that. If they’re anything like Pepper, the three of them could probably solve a lot of the world’s problems.

“You guys have a pool going on them too?” Peter asks, eyes wide.

“… too?” May asks, raising her eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you and your little gang are betting on your teachers.”

“I meaaaaan,” Peter shrugs, putting on an angelic face that is so obviously fake, but yet… disgustingly endearing. Even Happy looks a little bit charmed. “I wouldn’t call it a _bet_.”

“It still counts even if it isn’t for money,” May says, the look on her face telling Tony so much about their relationship. Clearly, she puts up with a lot of nonsense.

Huh.

Tony glances at Pepper, making a face at the knowing look on her face. Funny enough, Jemma seems to also be giving Clint a similar look.

Weird.

Peter sighs dramatically. “Okay, okay. It’s not really a bet. We just… have debated it extensively? And some of us have stronger opinions than others? And some of us might think they’re too stubborn and clueless to figure it out?”

Clint cackles, while May looks like she’s torn between wanting to laugh and wanting to ground Peter for months.

“I like you, kid,” Tony smirks, ignoring the way that Rhodey elbows him.

“You guys do realize we have a competition going on, right?” Jemma inserts, trying to steer the conversation away from the direction it was starting to head.

“And teachers to set up!” Tony claps, ignoring the groans from the group around him as Jemma leads him and Peter back into the tent.

* * *

Clint wanders over to Bucky’s station, presumably to check in on his progress, but really he’s tempted by the ingredients on the table. Specifically, the giant bowl of what looks like the fancy dark chocolate Phil likes.

“How’s it going, Buckster?” Clint asks, moving to jump up on the counter out of habit.

Bucky swats at Clint, giving him a look that has Clint immediately jumping down. He makes a face at Bucky, and steals a small piece of chocolate. “First batch is in, working on the second right now. Everything seems to be working out well.”

Clint nods seriously, taking another piece of chocolate and popping it in his mouth.

“Well it won’t be going quite as well if you keep taking all of my chocolate,” Bucky says, deadpan, glaring at Clint. Clint grins, takes one more piece of chocolate, then scampers off before Bucky can throw anything at him.

“Sam!” Clint greets him, patting him on the shoulder.

Sam, who was focused on making sure the butter he was melting wasn’t burning, jumps when he feels the touch. “Holy f-,” he catches himself quickly, spinning around to face Clint.

It takes everything in Clint not to burst out into laughter at the look on the man’s face. “Sorry about that. Just checking in to let you know there’s an hour left, and to see how you’re doing.”

“I’m doing good,” Sam laughs, voice still a little shaky from being startled. “This is way more intense than I thought it would be, man.”

“That’s what I like to hear!” Clint says, laughing and chatting with Sam a bit more before going off to join Jemma, Tony, and Peter, where they stand and chat for a bit.

When there’s half an hour left, Jemma disappears to bring everyone, including Sam and Bucky, some tea and coffee. They gladly accept it, and everyone kind of huddles around between the stations while both bakers are waiting for their last batches of cookies to finish baking.

It’s close, after the judging. Clint doesn’t know Peter, but he’s heard stories from Phil. He’d been expecting the kid to be, like, way too nice or something, especially since these are his teachers. He seems nervous, at first, but after Tony’s critiques, Peter relaxes a bit. Tony likes Bucky’s flavors, but Peter’s not as sold on them. They both like Sam’s cookies, but the one batch is a tad overbaked, so it’s pretty much neck and neck.

Clint thought he was excited for the technical round, but Tony looks like he’s about to start cackling at any minute when they’re doing the bit to introduce it. It’s delightful.

“Time for the technical round!” Jemma begins. “Under the gingham cloth, both of you have all the ingredients you will need for this round. You can’t use anything except those ingredients. Tony has been so kind as to provide you with a stripped down version of one of his favorite recipes: chocolate lava cakes!”

Both Bucky and Sam groan, grumbling to each other about the choice.

This plot to get them together might actually work.

Clint takes over, saying, “Bakers, you have 30 minutes to serve the judges two perfectly gooey lava cakes.” He pauses, grinning a little at their faces, then continues on, “Tony, do you have any words of wisdom for our bakers going into this round?” he asks.

“Lava cakes are all about the timing. When done right, though, they’re amazing. In fact, it’s how I got my husband to marry me.”

Next to Tony, Peter looks like he’s about to burst from trying to hold back his laughter. Even Jemma’s snickering at Tony, but she calms it down enough to say, “Well, that could come in handy. Now, judges, toddle off. As you know this round is judged blindly.” She waits for Peter and Tony to leave the tent. “Who doesn’t love a lava cake?”

“Someone who doesn’t like chocolate,” Clint butts in, just for the fun of it.

Jemma rolls her eyes at him. “Right, anyway. Bakers, you have thirty minutes: Ready.”

“Set,” Clint says.

“Bake!” Jemma says, and the two of them stand and watch as Sam and Bucky scramble to get the cloths off so they could get started.

“What in the hell are these directions?” Sam sighs as he reads over the purposely sparse recipes they were provided.

“A joke, that’s what,” Bucky groans as he gets set up for the first step.

Clint and Jemma share a look. He can tell from the look on her face that she’s thinking the same thing he is, and that both of them are struggling to keep the smug smiles off of their faces. Through the half hour allotted for the technical round, the two of them lurk in the tent, occasionally going to check in on Sam and Bucky but mostly just observing. This time, Sam and Bucky chatter throughout the whole round, in what seems to be part nerves and part frustration.

“You are a genius, Jemma,” Clint murmurs to her when they’re off in a spot that’s out of earshot of both the bakers and the cameras. “Channeling the Bake-Off spirit was brilliant.” Jemma winks at him, making Clint burst out into laughter.

Honestly, Clint’s impressed with how well the technical round goes. He’s binge-watched the show enough times to know how terrible the technical can go; then again, they purposely didn’t want to make it _too_ difficult for Sam and Bucky.

Well, that’s not true. Clint did, but he was outvoted.

Teachers. They’re too damn nice sometimes.

Anyway, both cakes wind up having a nice, gooey center, but Bucky’s cake is a little under-baked, so Sam pulls off the win. With that round over, the focus shifts to the final round: the showstopper. When they were planning everything, this round was the one that was the most difficult for them to plan.

It had to be different enough from the signature bake, but not something so complicated that they’d need to allot hours and hours of time for the round. It had to be something the guys would have fun with, too, and something holiday themed.

There was a long debate between gingerbread buildings and a yule long cake; eventually, gingerbread won out. The flavors would be relatively similar, then, and Sam and Bucky could get more creative with it.

After Sam and Bucky get started, Clint follows Jemma, Peter, and Tony over to Sam’s station to ask what he’s planning. Sam shows them the crude drawing he’d come up with, and starts explaining that he’s doing something from his favorite book or something that Clint starts to tune out because he doesn’t follow. Instead, he swipes some of the candy that Sam’s got on his station.

“Stop stealing my roofing,” Sam scolds Clint. He beams at Sam, and Jemma sighs.

“You’re like a child,” she says, grabbing Clint and dragging him over to Bucky, but not before he can steal another few pieces of candy. “Can’t take you anywhere,” she also scolds him.

During the allowed time, both Sam and Bucky work frantically. There’s periods of tense silence, and then there’s periods of nervous chatter as they commiserate over their successes or failures.

“Aw, gingerbread, no,” Clint murmurs sadly when one of the roof pieces that Bucky’s trying to attach falls and breaks in two. He wanders over to check in on Bucky while Sam’s somehow managing to offer words of encouragement and consolation while also still chirping him. “How bad is it?” Clint asks, watching Bucky carefully cement the two pieces together.

“Nothing a little royal icing can’t fix,” he says, words sounding much calmer than the little shake in his voice.

Clint nods sagely, barely resisting the temptation to just stick his finger in the icing to try it. “Looks like you’ve got it under control, then. Just around forty-five minutes left.” Bucky curses under his breath, and Clint winces and decides it’s probably best to just walk away.

Sam manages to finish a few minutes early, but Bucky’s scrambling to get a final piece of his castle assembled. Clint shares an amused look with the other three when Sam runs over to help Bucky, holding the piece in place while Bucky applies the icing to glue it in place.

“You can do it!” Peter yells, bouncing on the balls of his feet like he wants to jump up and down but is afraid that the movement would knock over their works.

“One minute left!” Jemma calls out, and she’s clinging to Clint as the two men work frantically to finish Bucky’s sculpture.

At this point, Bucky’s making unintelligible sounds that almost sounds like whimpers, while Sam’s trying to reassure Bucky.

“Thirty seconds!” Clint calls out.

“Time,” they call out together. “Back away from the castle, slowly,” Jemma says, her eyes wide. “Great job!” She grins at them, laughing when they both collapse back against the counter, panting for breath and high fiving each other.

“Nice,” Tony smiles at them.

“Please don’t tell me we have to carry them up to the table there,” Sam groans, glaring at the judges.

Tony laughs, shaking his head. “I’m feeling generous, so no, I won’t make you risk them falling apart until we break into them.”

They wait for Jemma to take a ton of pictures so that she can post them on the school’s and festival’s Instagram pages later, and then the judging begins.

* * *

May feels like she hasn’t stopped laughing since everyone in the small tent really relaxed around each other. When she started sharing stories about Peter, Pepper, Rhodey, and Happy all threw in their own stories about Tony.

She’s glad for the conversation, because it keeps her from just… staring at Pepper. It’s hard not to, though. The woman is stunning, not only physically but just in how quick she is. So, okay, yes, she has a thing for Pepper, but it doesn’t matter.

That’s not what she’s here for.

She is here to support Peter and, apparently, work on setting his two teachers up. She’s not sure how a baking competition is going to do that, but everyone seems pretty determined.

“It’s kind of cute, huh?” Pepper asks, voice soft as she walks over to stand next to May and prepare a cup of tea.

May, who is trying to keep her brain from short circuiting, just stares at the Keurig for a second before turning to face Pepper. “What is?”

“How determined everyone is to get those two together,” Pepper explains.

“I was thinking it reminded me of a rom-com,” May laughs, beaming when Pepper grins at her.

“Yeah, I can see that. It’s both ridiculous and adorable.”

“Precisely,” May smiles, picking up her mug once the coffee is done brewing, just holding it in her hands for a little extra warmth.

Pepper glances down at the movement, then looks back up at May. “Cold?” She asks.

May shrugs, face reddening slightly. “You know, winter. These heaters are nice, but there’s nothing like holding a warm drink.”

Pepper stares at May, a thoughtful look on her face. It looks like she’s just about to say something else, when they’re interrupted by Peter and Tony walking into the tent, followed by Jemma and Clint, who each are carrying a plate of gingerbread pieces. It might be May’s imagination, but Pepper almost looks… disappointed to have to turn around and give her attention to someone else. May hangs back, sipping her coffee to try and ignore the way her heart is suddenly beating faster, before she walks over to join everyone at the table.

“Don’t mind me,” Rhodey says, reaching over once the plates are set down in front of them and snapping off a piece of the gingerbread from the plate closest to him.

“How’d it go?” May asks, helping herself to some gingerbread as well. While they’re not there to actually help with the judging, they’re certainly taking advantage of the treats.

“Well,” Tony says, “I have no idea how Phil managed to get such closely matched competitors.”

“They’ve literally always been like this,” Clint interjects. “They’ve been competing against each other since they were kids, and they’re almost always really close. There’s a few things that one can do that the other can’t, but otherwise they’re pretty neck and neck. I’m not even surprised at how close this wound up being.”

“Did Phil know that going in?” Tony asks, eyebrow raised slightly.

Phil snorted in laughter. “That’s the best part. No. This was meant to be punishment for them, because he didn’t know their history until I told him. It worked out perfectly.”

“Damn,” Rhodey laughs, taking another small piece of gingerbread, this time from the other plate. “No wonder the whole town is trying to get them together.”

May and Pepper share an amused look, and May elects to ignore the contemplative look on Peter’s face. Meddling child.

“Seriously,” Tony agrees. “The round was good. It’s going to be really difficult to pick the Star Baker. Both of them looked really great. Peter here nerded out over Sam’s _Lord of the Rings_ gingerbread.”

“It was _awesome_ ,” Peter says, actually sounding still in awe as he thinks about it.

“It was. Bucky’s was good, but not quite as impressive. His gingerbread tastes better, though. Sam’s is good, but Bucky added some orange zest that just lifts up the flavor just enough,” Tony mused out loud.

“So, basically, one looked better while the other tasted better?” Jemma asks.

Tony and Peter both nod. “Which is why it’s tough,” Peter says, pouting a little bit. May pats him on the head, and everyone in the tent laughs at the half-hearted glare that he gives her. He’s about as threatening as a tulip.

They debate back and forth for a surprisingly long time. Happy looks bored of the conversation, May notices, or maybe he’s just trained to have a face like that as part of his bodyguard duties. Just when May is about to get up and wander around for something to do, Peter and Tony finally reach a consensus as to who the winner is going to be.

* * *

While the winner is being debated, Jemma goes out to check on Bucky and Sam, bringing the plate of subs out with her as an offering. She has a feeling that this is going to take a while, so she might as well get some food in them.

She’s not sure what to expect, but seeing them sitting on the ground, Bucky leaning into Sam and both of them looking like they’re seconds away from nodding off, is not it. She beams at them, snapping a quick picture.

She can’t find it in herself to wake them up, so she just leaves the food on the counter near them, where they’re sure to see it when they wake up.

Half an hour later, the decision is finally made, and she goes back in to let them know Tony, Peter, and Clint would be out shortly to make the announcement. Bucky and Sam are both standing up this time, each eating a sub.

“Have they made up their damn minds yet?” Bucky asks, but it’s only punctuated with a yawn, not any sort of frustration.

Jemma laughs. “Yes, they have. Just going to grab this out of the way and then we’ll be back on camera. Make yourself pretty again.”

“Not sure how pretty I can be covered in flour and icing sugar,” Sam groans.

Both of them notice that Bucky wants to say something, but restrains himself and instead pulls his hair out of its messy bun to pull it back again. Jemma smirks a little, and ducks out with the plate of food.

“It’s totally working,” she says as soon as she’s back in the tent. “Pretty sure Bucky was just about to hit on Sam and chickened out.”

The tent erupts in soft cheers, only held back so as to not be heard in the tent in the other room. Once they all compose themselves, Jemma leads the other three back to the tent.

“Bakers, come on up to the front,” she says, waiting for them both to come forward. “It is time for us to have the great pleasure of announcing who the Star Baker of the competition is. But first, Tony has an announcement to make.”

Tony nods. “I am incredibly impressed with the both of you. I would love to invite you to work with me at some point and create an item each to be sold at my bakery.” Sam and Bucky both look at each other in surprise, eyes wide. He turns to Peter, beaming at him. “You too, kiddo. I’d love to give you some lessons.” Peter makes the most adorable sound that Jemma has ever heard, something between a gasp and a squeak. Tony grins at Peter before turning back to the bakers. “In addition, I’m going to not only give the winner a small cash prize, but I’m going to make a donation to the school. You guys did a fantastic job with this whole thing, and I had a blast. I think that we should make this a new tradition- but maybe next time in the summer instead of the cold?”

It’s Jemma’s turn to be surprised, and she whips her head around to stare at Tony, mouth open in shock. She glances over to Clint, who looks just as surprised as she does, but recovers much quicker. “Much better plan. Let’s do it. The Great Summer Break Bake-Off.”

“Sold,” Tony laughs.

“Okay, formalities aside,” Jemma says when she’s recovered. “The winner of the Holiday Bake-Off is… _Sam!_ ”

Sam lets out a whoop of excitement, and immediately hugs Bucky. He looks a little flustered once he realizes what he’s just done, but he runs with it, congratulating Bucky as well before stepping back and accepting the cake stand from Peter and a huge wreath from Tony.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's more of an epilogue than a full chapter, hence it being a little shorter, but it's done, folks, we've finally reached this day!! enjoy.

“You know our friends have a pool going on, right?” Sam asks Bucky when they’re seated at a table in the local diner. Sam’s never really been able to decide if it feels more like a diner masquerading as a coffee shop, or the other way around, but it’s a favorite spot in town. It’s cozy, the coffee’s pretty good, and the food is stellar. The owner, Thor, is also a hoot, and half the reason people come in.

Speaking of the devil, the man himself comes over to their table to greet them. “My friends! How did your baking go?”

Bucky gives Sam a look that Sam can’t quite decipher before he turns to Thor. “Good for this guy at least,” he groans, nodding his head at Sam.

“Not my fault you just aren’t as good as me,” Sam shrugs, but he’s grinning.

Bucky rolls his eyes. “In your dreams.”

“Nope, in reality,” Sam grins, pointing to his cake stand. It’s ugly as shit, really, but he loves it. It’s very… charming.

“Congratulations, Sam!” Thor says. “I’m sure you both did well.”

“Thanks, Thor,” Sam smiles at him. They both give their orders to him and he wanders off.

When he’s gone, Bucky looks at Sam expectantly. “What do you mean, a pool?”

“A pool on when we’re going to get together,” Sam rolls his eyes.

Bucky’s giving him that undecipherable look again. Sam isn’t sure how to take it, really. “I can’t say that I’m surprised,” he finally says after a moment.

“Me either. Why us, though, I don’t know,” Sam forces out a laugh. He’s still not sure how to take that look on Bucky’s face; is he repulsed by the thought of being with Sam, is he annoyed at their friends, what? It’s weird.

Bucky’s eye twitches slightly. It’s freaking Sam out a little, and he squirms in his seat. Maybe the moments they’d had earlier were just that… because of the moment. To Sam’s relief, Bucky relaxes slightly, and just looks thoughtful. It looks like he’s considering something, and honestly, Sam feels that.

Waking up leaning into Bucky, his head against the other man’s, had been… well, it had brought a lot of feelings that he’d been holding back for a while back up to the surface. Sam had no idea what to do with those feelings, wasn’t sure if he would have any hope whatsoever of them being reciprocated.

But then again, Sam had caught the way that Bucky was looking at him earlier. He’s pretty sure he wasn’t imagining that, as exhausted as he was.

“Maybe we are the idiots,” Bucky says slowly.

“Come again?” Sam asks, frowning at Bucky.

Bucky glances up at Thor when he comes back over, placing their food down with a big grin. They both thank him before turning to each other. “I snuck into Steve’s classroom the other day. I was going to prank him, right?”

“And blame it on the kids?” Sam clarifies, trying to sound scandalized, but even he can hear the encouragement in his voice.

“Of course,” Bucky snorts. “What do you take me for?” Sam smirks, briefly thinking back on the trouble they used to get up to before their falling-out, but nods for Bucky to continue. “I went into one of his drawers, and found the list for the pool. Nearly everyone is in on it, did you know that?”

Sam raises an eyebrow, slowly shaking his head. “I had a hunch from overhearing Nat on the phone one day, but that’s about it.”

“Half of the faculty, Sam. Staff, too. Our _principal_ is in on it,” Bucky sighs.

And that, well. That throws Sam for a loop. “The principal? Coulson? _Phil_ Coulson is encouraging his staff to bet on us?”

Bucky nods solemnly. “The one and only.”

“Well, fuck,” Sam breathes out, leaning back in the booth. He raises an eyebrow after a moment. “Do you think he orchestrated this whole thing as a ploy to get us together?”

Bucky shrugs at that. “Not unless Parker and Jones purposely got the two of us in trouble. His was the last name on there, so Barton probably talked him into it. He did pick today though.”

Sam snorts. “Of course he did. So how do you want to play this?” Sam’s really not sure what Bucky thinks of all of this. Is it just a joke to him? Sam’s all in for a good joke and all, but at the same time… well, he’d really like to kiss the shit-eating grin right off of Barnes’ face. After bragging about winning, of course.

And Bucky’s… silent. He’s not speaking, on account of eating the food in front of him, but his eyes never leave Sam. Sam squirms again, thrown for a loop by this man in front of him. Despite this, he refuses to cave, and eats his own food, waiting to hear what Bucky is going to say.

Bucky seems to consider this, consider Sam, and nods to himself. Of course it’s become a silent competition.

What doesn’t between them?

Sam raises his eyebrow when Bucky nods, challenging him right back.

Bucky slowly smirks, setting down his fork. “Well, as much as I want to fuck that smug look right off your face, I think we should also mess with them.”

“I’m listening,” Sam just about _purrs_ , not sure which part of that proposition he’s more excited for.

Sam’s a bit thrown off when Bucky calls Thor over, but he’s still got that scheming look on his face, so he’s not going to question it quite yet.

“What can I do for you, Bucky?” Thor asks when he approaches the table, pad of paper in hand.

“How would you feel about helping us pull one over on our co-workers?”

Thor’s face absolutely lights up. “Why, my friend, I think that would be delightful! My brother and I always used to play tricks on each other. Did I ever tell you about the time he put a snake under my pillow?”

Before Thor can get into the story, which Sam has probably heard three times, Bucky smoothly brings his attention back to the topic at hand. “Wonderful. So, it turns out they’re betting on me and Sam getting together.”

Thor looks from Sam to Bucky, and frowns. “You two are not already together?”

At this, both Bucky and Sam start, blinking at each other. “You thought…?” Sam asks.

Thor just shrugs. “I noticed the way you have been looking at each other all night.”

Sam lets out a slow breath. He forgets, sometimes, just how observant Thor can be. Bucky looks like he’s having a similar thought process, but he pushes on. “Okay, well. We aren’t.”

“But you’d like to be?” Thor guesses.

Sam lets out a broken laugh at that, resisting the urge to bang his head on the table. “Yes,” he admits, catching Bucky’s eye, who grins at him.

“And you want me to throw the results of this bet?”

“Exactly!” Bucky laughs.

“You want him to go to Steve with a bet of his own, but one we all pick to throw the results?” Sam figures out. Bucky points at Sam and nods.

“Steve comes in every morning for coffee,” Thor says, sliding in to the booth next Sam. “I can tell him I saw you come in together tonight, looked close, ask if you know if you guys are together?”

Bucky and Sam share a glance, considering about whether that would be enough to get Steve to bring the pool up. “Worse comes to worse, just bring it up I guess, saying that someone told you about it.”

Thor nods. “Are you planning to go on a date, then?”

Sam blinks slowly, glancing over at Bucky. He wasn’t… sure what Bucky wanted. A hook up?

“Of course,” Bucky says, rolling his eyes at Sam, who lets out a strangled laugh and raises an eyebrow.

“And when will that be?” Thor asks.

“That’s a good question,” Sam replies, staring at Bucky.

Bucky raises an eyebrow with a sinful little smirk that is doing _things_ to Sam. “When you free, doll?”

Sam sits back, sipping at his coffee and thinking about it as he looks from Bucky to Thor. “You know if it’s before Christmas, my mother will somehow figure it out and want you there, right? She’s got that creepy motherly intuition shit.”

Bucky pauses, seemingly considering this, and then breaks out into a grin. “I miss Momma Wilson. What’s the verdict, her boy’s too good for a scoundrel like me, or she’s been waiting for us to get married since we were five?”

Sam can’t help but burst out into laughter, shaking his head in amusement. “Both, Barnes. You know this.”

“Christmas Eve,” Thor suggests. “Do lunch together, then sort out family things.”

“No one will have guessed that,” Bucky says, nodding slowly.

Sam grins at Thor, “And Steve will probably be surprised at the choice and not have any clue that you’re playing him. Buck’s always got early dinner with his family on Christmas Eve, after all. He won’t expect that we’re getting along enough for me to show up to that.”

“You remember?” Bucky asks, clearly surprised.

“Of course I remember,” Sam laughs. “You always used to throw a fit that your mom would only let you choose one gift, especially when she’d give me gifts.”

They share a look, smiling at each other, and… wow. _Wow_. Sam honestly can’t believe it’s taken them this long.

“It’s perfect, then,” Thor decides. “I pretend I don’t know about this. You two tell everyone Sam came over and you reconnected, declared your love under the mistletoe.”

Both Bucky and Sam can’t help but burst out into laughter. “It’s perfect.”

Thor claps and stands back up, patting them both on the shoulder. “Congratulations, then, my friends. I will leave you to your evening, then. And the food is on me tonight,” he winks at them.

“Good, because you’re profiting off of us,” Bucky laughs. Thor high fives him and wanders off to help another customer.

Sam turns to Bucky, studying him for a moment. “You sure about this?”

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “Having second thoughts?”

“Not at all,” Sam says, sipping at his coffee, trying to hide his smile. “Just making sure you’re not.”

“And turn down a chance to be with a gorgeous guy like you? Please,” Bucky smirks.

Sam rolls his eyes, but laughs a little. “You know that if this doesn’t work, our moms will kill us, right?”

Bucky nods and shrugs. “Guess we’ll just have to make it work then, yeah?”

Sam rolls his eyes, but can’t help the grin that lights up his face. “Seems like it.” He beams at Bucky, feeling light, despite how worn out he was. He watches as Bucky pulls out his phone and types up a message.

Barely a minute passes before his phone lights up, and Bucky bursts out into laughter. He turns the phone around to show it to Sam. Apparently, he’d told his mother that Sam was coming over on Christmas Eve, and her response was what he’d been laughing at.

_About damn time!! Both of your sisters have started talking about Parent Trapping the two of you. Tell Sam I’ll make the potatoes he likes. x_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you enjoyed this journey and my first real attempt at posting a WIP as i go. feel free to come talk with me about this 'verse (or any others) over on tumblr at @glazed-sun! i will happily chat about it. there's loads to explore in this universe, so don't be surprised if i write more down the line (also, feel free to send me prompts relating to it, and i might just write it!).
> 
> lots of love!


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